


Home to Me

by Quillaninc



Category: Voltron: Lion Voltron
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-26
Updated: 2010-07-26
Packaged: 2017-10-10 19:43:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/103575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quillaninc/pseuds/Quillaninc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New locations can show us different aspects of ourselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home to Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [randi2204](https://archiveofourown.org/users/randi2204/gifts).



> Giftfic for [](http://randi2204.livejournal.com/profile)[**randi2204**](http://randi2204.livejournal.com/), on the occasion of The Big Mooooove. To quote, the only thing harder than packing is unpacking!

His first move was nothing to write home about.

Of course, he _did_ write home, if only because Keith knew he'd never hear the end of it if his mother didn't get what amounted to a blow-by-blow account of his first day at the Academy.

So he told her about his class schedules and how annoying it was that the student union was clear over the other side from the dorms, deliberately skipping the bit about the ragging he'd gotten from the third years near the shared bathrooms on his level so as not to worry her more than it already worried him, and instead told her the little he knew about his new bunkmate for the semester.

Which actually wasn't a lot, except that he seemed nice enough, if a little more easy going than Keith was used to. He kept his personal reservations to himself, just for the time being. He didn't need his parents on his back about the potential 'bad influences' of a disruptive roomie every time they talked.

When he'd asked his roommate what he planned to write home about, Lance had shrugged diffidently, snagging up his jacket as he was heading out.

"Not much," he remarked oh-so-casually. "I haven't got anyone to write home _to_."

* * *

Their second move signified much more than their first.

Of course, the brief shift from the dorms to off campus accommodation after graduation didn't really count in the scheme of things. That had been nothing but a tense holding cell, less personal than even a hotel room.

The only 'homey' thing Keith indulged himself with in that tiny little apartment was a newly framed family photo perched on the dresser. He, in his military graduation uniform, dad proud and beaming at the back, mom smiling tearfully and clinging to one arm while his sister pulled faces and his brother made rabbit's ears behind –_ tch, typical_!

The set up, the family placement, was virtually identical to every other snapshot that commemorated Keith's life, with one unexpected addition. With no one around to attend his grand ceremony, Keith's family had openly roped Lance in with their little group, shoving him into the middle of their traditional photo with Keith and making such a fuss, complete with hugs and kisses and fatherly back slaps, until his poor roommate was red with embarrassment at so much unaccustomed praise.

In their interim apartment, that snapshot took Keith's pride of place, a steady reminder of the things he cherished: family, friends, support, closeness. Yet even so, that one photo did little to ease the nervous waiting, until the biggest shift of their lives greeted them from crisp white military paper, explained in stamped black letters of convoluted bureaucracy.

So here, now, the real move was towering above them, all silver and bright and terrifying, along with the knowledge that this would be the only place they could call home for however many months – or years, even – that they'd be aboard her, way out in that unknown they called space.

* * *

The third move was the one no one knew anything about.

The one that happened quietly, gradually, night by unspoken night of sneaking around draughty castle corridors, until neither of them could remember when they'd last slept alone in their own bed.

Of course, it probably wasn't the wisest of moves – Keith knew that, he wasn't dumb. He was just lonely. And scared. But mostly lonely.

But being curled up in Lance's arms, feeling warm skin and slow, even breaths and the occasional sleepy murmur against his neck … well, it made home seem just that little bit closer, and that little further away.

* * *

The fourth move was the obvious one.

By the time it was all over and they were packing their belongings ready to leave Arus, everyone knew the status of things, and to Keith's surprise, no one really cared. It was taken for granted that they'd move in together by everyone, including Lance.

It was the one that should have been right, should have been perfect, should have been happily evers. It should have lived up to the promise of secret morning cuddling and sofas in front of fireplaces and warm, affectionate welcome homes.

And it was none of those things, at all.

* * *

The fifth move was the stupid one.

It was the move that should never have been, the Grand Solution that went horribly sour, the one that just made everything worse instead of making it all better. And by the time their twelve month lease was up, both of them were glad – no, not just glad, _relieved_ – to see the back of each other.

And as Keith shoved his belongings haphazardly into boxes, listening to the angry sounds of Lance dumping books into his, he made a mental note to never put himself through this again.

If an apartment was too small, it wasn't the size of the place that was causing the arguments – it was the size of the relationship, and no amount of moving to bigger and better housing was going to fix that.

* * *

The sixth one was the best one to date, and the worst.

It was that uncomfortable move, that one where you need space, but the place feels so incredibly vacant on your own.

It was the move that leant towards hours and hours of reflection, of Keith asking himself _why_ and _what part did I play _and _could I have done better_? It was the move that allowed him to grow into his own skin, to get to know himself in the silence, to learn what was important and what things didn't really matter anyway.

It was that painful move of in between times. It was that 'growing up' move.

And then it was time to go again.

* * *

His seventh move took him to new places, new employment, new hope, new life.

He liked it here. No one knew him, or knew his past. Here, he was just another nine-to-fiver, a company man just doing his job and leaving the hard decisions to someone higher, someone not already weary of power and ambition at the tender age of twenty six.

He could take off and grab lunch without worrying about the world crashing in on him. He could take an extra ten minutes lingering over his coffee in his favourite shop and know that, as long as the time was made up at the end of the day, disaster wasn't going to take out half the planet along with it. He could even…

… run into Lance.

It was awkward. Difficult. Exciting, in that 'oh, hi!' way before remembering they weren't friends any more.

But Lance's eyes held that same glint of delight that twisted in Keith's chest, and before he knew what he was doing, Keith had ordered a third cup of coffee instead of leaving it at his second.

An order for two.

* * *

The eighth move was a long time coming.

Two years of casual Fridays and midweek lunches, which eventually became drinks most nights after work before spilling over into Saturday football matches and then, later, watching it on TV with pizza and beer on the couch instead.

And then, a year or so more, of spending nights over, before either of them were willing to broach the subject again.

It was an uneasy move, yet an electrifying one, the 'oh God, please don't let us fuck this up again' kind. One that seemed to take forever before angry words were spoken and making up had them sweating and gasping and begging each other to stay, just stay.

It was a learning move. Learning to be a couple.

* * *

This latest move was the everyday kind.

An end of a lease, one job too far a commute in one direction, a simple, ordinary decision: do we stay here, or look somewhere else? Nothing dramatic, no heartbreak (only a cracked vase, its origins a baffling mystery), just an ordinary, everyday move.

Standing in the middle of their new lounge, surrounded by a sea of plain cardboard boxes, Keith grinned with satisfaction. _Their_ place, _their _things, _their _decision, both of them together. It felt good. In fact, it felt damn good.

"Hey!" Lance straightened up from his unpacking with surprised delight. "I didn't know you still had this!"

Keith weaved between the obstacles to sidle up next to him. He'd forgotten where he'd packed that graduation photo, still in its simple wooden frame. For years now, he'd kept it hidden away in his jumper drawer, close enough without being a daily reminder. Smiling, he slid his hand over Lance's holding the frame, giving it a gentle squeeze. "It's a good photo," he remarked.

Lance grinned at him. "And you've only just noticed this?"

"No." Keith plucked the frame from his hands and somehow managed not to trip as he made his way to the narrow mantle piece. His smile grew as he set it just off centre and looked back at Lance. "I just wanted you to know it, too."

Lance carefully picked a path between the boxes to join him, coming up behind and sliding arms around Keith's waist, strong and warm despite the chill in the air. "Tell me this is what home is?" he whispered, uncertainty catching in his voice.

Keith smiled in absolute contentment and leaned into his embrace. "Well, it's home to me," he replied softly.

A second later, he was slapping Lance's hand away from where it was creeping beneath his sweater, turning to glare at him sternly. "Unpacking now, that later. Now behave!"

He couldn't quite resist the sheepish grin on Lance's face. Nor leaning in to steal a kiss.

~ owari ~

 

* * *


End file.
